Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

14 streets pArAdING their EfRONTERY on eVery sidewalk, JAPIng and jeeering at the Law before WOhitch their PolTroon heartx would COWEr in $linking submission if the becent, law abid&ng ciTizens were aWake! Ye Edit(r is not afrai6d of them. The BULLETS of VirtUe are as DEDLY as the bullets of vICE. We have met violence with V*olance and we have fought the good fight, butwE can#fnot stand Citizens, awa&*#e! Let the DECENT element of this Twon get togeter and exTERmanate the viPer which raises its Grisly head in our mudst, holding the six- shooter in its GORy hand as the eMblem of tyrrZny and raPine!!!! Let us muzzle it, SADDle it, throw it and bRand it untill its cloven hOffs nevermor3 deFile the sacredd SOIL of our County!!! Let the KeLLeys, the Currys, the LOpezes, the BoNNErs, the Vances, and all their Despiccable ik be BAN- We have done our Part! Our hearT and our pistil are CONsecrated to the caug$e of jshstice, but we caNot fight alone. Some have come for- Cittizens!!! Awake!!! It looked a little rough even for Arizona journalism in 1890. “My type-setter’s sick,’’ apologized the editor. “T believe it.” “T had to throw it together myself. It woke ’em up, though!” A familiar bellow thundered in from the street. A giant form stamped through the door, shaking the floor-boards with his heavy boots. “Bring your note-book!” roared Tupper. “Bring your pencil! Come over to the Southern Trail saloon! You'll git a piece for your paper!” ‘“‘What about?” asked the editor. “Ted Raines! He called me a liar! Him an’ me’s goin’ to meet! Watch my smoke! Watch me eat’m alive! I’m a peaceful gent, but when I’m ’roused I’m a screamin’ wolf! I got tiger blood in my veins!” “VYou’ve got whisky!” corrected the editor. ‘Here, now! Stop this nonsense! There’s been shootings enough!”’ “IT been insulted! People can’t insult me! Not Andrew Tupper they can’t! You come and watch my smoke! You Oh!” 1”? come TUPPER noticed Grant Wilcox for the first time. Tupper was taken aback, but Wilcox tried to set him at ease. “Let us watch his smoke,” he suggested to the editor. Adventure The quiet boss couldn’t have done a meaner trick. The bombastic cow-puncher had really hoped the journalist would persuade him to calm down and then write a rip-snorting editorial peeling the hide off the Raines person. Now it was all off. Tupper cast a baleful glance at Wilcox and succumbed to fate. He slapped the butt of his six-shooter. “Yeh!” he snarled. “Watch it! Come on, all of you! The more the merrier! You better bring a spade, Mister Wilcox. Them that fools with Andrew Tupper needs it! Come on!” They left the newspaper office and crossed the street to a great saloon and gambling- place known to fame as the Southern Trail. Loungers detected something in the poise of Tupper so they followed, seeking excite- ment. Soon a big crowd was milling through the entrance of the Southern Trail. The big cow-puncher put hand to hip and halted in the doorway. The crowd spread fan-wise and took vantage points. Drinkers at the bar put down their glasses. Up against a cold matter of possible life and death, Tupper’s eyes popped and his lips trembled under his great black mus- tache. Still, he advanced until he came to the roulette table. A man in blue overalls stood with his back to the table. Though he was armed his glance was darting hither and yon as if seeking escape. Escape was closed so his glance finally steadied. “That’s the way a bad man starts out,” remarked a man near Grant Wilcox. “Both scared, both ready to run. They’ll fight because they have to. The feller that wins’ll think he has to keep it up. Then some other feller’ll! have to shoot him. It > happens that-a-way every time.”’ ‘““Veh,”’ agreed another observer. ‘When a feller with a streak o’ yeller wins—then look out!’ Wilcox began to glimpse his own re- sponsibility in this affair! “You called me a liar!” rolled Tupper’s great voice, trembling with a queer cadence. There was an ominous silence. “Ves,” shrilled his opponent. “TI called you a liar!” Both men feared what was coming and delayed it; but suddenly both six-shooters were whipped from their holsters. There was a double flash of flame and a crack of ° MICLO©OKS C@